


Hurt

by Etherea



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e07 My Little Monkey, Hand Jobs, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Sauna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 01:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21090920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etherea/pseuds/Etherea
Summary: Alternate scene, in which Boris & Co exit the steam room after shaking hands with Lucifer, and Dan helps the Devil understand he has more to offer the world than hurt.





	Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> Written in about 40 minutes, and un-beta'd. Enjoy!

After Boris and his retinue left the sauna and were welcomed by the LAPD officers waiting outside, Lucifer sat on the marble bench, leaning back on the upper step with a sigh. He closed his eyes, only to snap them open a moment later when Dan spoke, his voice echoing in the now-near-empty room.

"Do you really?"

"Do I really what? Do be specific, Douche-tective."

"Hate yourself. Want to die."

Lucifer rolled his eyes and closed them again. "You heard what Boris The Soviet Love Hammer said. Human lie detector, he is. The whole show would have been over if that weren't true."

A moment, maybe two, passed, and then Dan responded.

"I meant what I said too. You _are_ a loose cannon. A lot of things would be safer if you weren't swinging your...personality around this city."

The noise of disgust Lucifer made bounced off the hot shiny walls. "Yes, I _know_ you loathe me, you needn't rub it in."

"That's the thing, Lucifer. I don't loathe you. Don't hate you. At least, not how you hate you."

Lucifer felt the air, heavy with steam, shift as Dan knelt next to him. He felt the detective's large, calloused hand ghost down the paler man's abs, and delve between the layers of the white towel encircling his hips. His head turned sharply, eyes open to meet Dan's for a long moment that hung suspended like the clouds of vapour around them, and then slammed back onto the marble as the other man's hand wrapped around him.

Lucifer, silver-tongued Devil, He Who Shall Not Shut Up, was finally experiencing a part of human life that left him wordless. In fact, he nearly swallowed his tongue. 

"You think you only hurt the people closest to you? You don't see what you've done for Chloe." Dan's low, hoarse whisper sounded mournful to Lucifer's ears. "Before you, she was completely wrapped up in work. I hadn't heard her laugh, make a joke, in God knows how long." 

Lucifer huffed in frustration, not wanting the mention of his Father to interrupt this bizarre and precious moment. His noise morphed into a strangled groan as Dan's body pressed alongside his and his hand began to move rhythmically. 

"The other cops, they don't see her as she is. As a woman, as beautiful. They see another cop. But you made her feel desired in a way she hadn't since we separated."

Their bodies moved against each other, heat building until the air felt as cool as any room not bathed in steam. Little quirks of the hip, fingers changing their grip under the plush cotton covering Lucifer's lap, each motion making small sounds that felt huge in the sauna's acoustics. He glanced at Dan occasionally, trying to understand what this was, and every time the warm brown eyes staring back at him were so open and...affectionate?! He turned back to the ceiling every time. The ceiling was not turning a year's worth of mutual bitterness into an extremely confusing arousal. The ceiling was simple to understand. Warm stone, a slick expanse, hard, but not possibly as hard as he was in the grasp of this infuriating man! Each vein and ridge, slick now with sweat and whatever fluids Dan's ministrations had coaxed from him.

"Hurt is not all you have to offer, Lucifer."

He set his jaw and turned one last time to meet that baffling gaze. This time he would strike out, lashing out to deliver the hurt that would surely drive the detective away and end this upsettingly intimate moment. 

The insults he had prepared died on his tongue. Their eyes met and locked, and neither one seemed capable of so much as a blink. Dan's movements sped up, and Lucifer reached out to grasp one side of, it must be said, that _exquisitely_ muscled torso. The other hand braced against the marble seat, as his hips seemed to move of their own accord. He felt as he imagined the Brittanys must feel under his hands; cowed into obedience by a sure touch, firm and gentle in turns, responsive and insistent. Whenever the movement slowed, grip loosening or hand pulling back to hover just out of reach over him, he answered the unspoken question by arching up off the marble, thrusting himself back into that confident embrace. Tension pulled at every line of his body, legs drawn up and feet en pointe, veins thrumming with need. Jaw loosening, his brows drew together in an expression of relief and bafflement as the most confusing release of his life spilled into the soft white towel. 

He could have sworn he only blinked, only closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, but when Lucifer looked again, no one looked back. A swirling, quickly dissipating path through the vapour of the sauna was the only hint that someone else had been here, and gone. 

And he was alone with the afterglow, feeling a little less like he deserved to die. 

But oh hell, _much_ more sticky.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, the way Dan looked at Luci! He told Boris the truth, but not the whole truth. And this is what played out in my head.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed ;)


End file.
